


Tummy Troubles

by orangefriday



Category: Smosh
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-23
Updated: 2011-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23058499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangefriday/pseuds/orangefriday
Summary: Anthony better not die, or Ian was going to kill him
Relationships: Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla
Kudos: 1





	Tummy Troubles

  
If Ian had to choose between food or Anthony, he would probably say food. Then he would watch as his friend looked at him in disappointment or anger, maybe even betrayal. But he’s only saying it. It’s not what Ian really means.  
  
Because if it meant starving or being without Anthony in the world, he’d probably let his stomach empty until only acid sloshed inside.  
  
Of course, he’d never admit it.  
  
“Wipe that dumbass smile off your face, you douche,” Anthony growled, clutching his tummy in pain. They were in the hospital; Anthony in a bed wearing a papery gown and his mismatched socks sticking out of the sheets. Ian could feel his own stomach disagreeing with him, rumbling and grumbling for sustenance.  
  
“What?” Ian asked, leaning back in his chair beside the bed. He stretched out his hungry pains. “You should be thanking me.”  
  
Anthony opened his mouth in retort but grimaced, as another bout of pain seemed to weave through him. “Fuck my life!” Anthony cried, his skin glazed over by a thin sheet of cold sweat. “Gah, I want to die.”  
  
“Relax, Ant,” Ian said and stood up to sit slowly in the bed with Anthony. “The doctor said a nurse is gunna come by and fix you up.”  
  
“Not fast enough, Ian,” Anthony whined, doubling over again, cringing and grunting in discomfort. His face was blotchy and pale with hair that stood up in all ways and matte over his wet forehead. Ian thought Anthony looked like a Saiyan, about to release a gigantic load of kamehameha. Except, Anthony looked more constipated than powerful.  
  
Ian was hungry, as his stomach reminded him again with a low growl that only he heard. They had been in the emergency ward for over four hours, waiting and waiting and getting ready for Anthony's so-important emergency surgery. They had missed lunch, not to mention uploading Lunchtime as well. He was getting angry tweets from their fans and his empty stomach was crumbling war within him.  
  
“I’ll go see what’s up,” Ian suggested, hoping for food but Anthony shook his head, wincing when Ian’s hip hit his side the wrong way.  
  
“Sorry. You okay?”  
  
Anthony gave him a look, pointedly saying ‘no, of course not, you bitch’. "Just... don't move." He moaned, closing his eyes and his knuckles turning white as his fingers tensed into a fist. Ian patted Anthony's fist, nudging it to relax but Anthony only shot him daggers, taking Ian's offending hand in his and crushing it. Ian yelped in pain, cursing at his friend before being released.  
  
"What the hell was that for?" Ian cried, pouting and cradling his hurt hand. "That freakin' hurt!"  
  
Geez, Anthony could be so mean sometimes.  
  
"Shut up," Anthony growled and slapped a hand over his eyes. "Don't be a baby."  
  
Ian scoffed, "Me? A baby?" He dared to wiggle his hip right into Anthony's side, earning him a slap in the chest that was supposedly a pathetic attempt to push Ian out of the bed. " _You're_ the baby, you bitch! If you had went to the doctor when I told you to, we wouldn't be here."  
  
"Argh!" Anthony complained, scratching at Ian's forearm. "If my appendix bursts before this is over, I'm going to _kill you_."  
  
"Then don't hurt me!"  
  
"You hit me first!'  
  
"That was an accident, you asshole."  
  
"Fuck you. No one told you to sit on my bed. There's a freakin' chair right over there."  
  
"Well... the chair sucks. And I'm bored."  
  
"So you decided to come and sit on me?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Bitch."  
  
"Jerk."  
  
"Retard."  
  
"Bitch!"  
  
"I already said that."  
  
"Uh... w-well... screw you!"  
  
"...Nice."  
  
They stared each other down, brown eyes rimmed with redness from exhaustion striking into cool blue ones that weren't as serious as Anthony's.  
  
Ian's stomach growling broke the tension.  
  
"I'm hungry." Ian frowned, patting his stomach and Anthony laughed, or at least tried to. He ended up groaning with tears welling up in his eyes from pain. His hand wrapped tight around Ian's wrist and Ian let him hold on until the wave of pain relaxed.  
  
"I know," Anthony said and relaxed his fingers, letting colour drain back into Ian's hand. "But you're not allowed to go until the nurse comes."  
  
Ian huffed, "Dude, I'm _starving_. How about I go look for the nurse _and_ get food, yeah?"  
  
"No," Anthony said sternly, and grabbed Ian's hood when the other made to stand up. "I'm not staying in this room myself."  
  
"Aww... Anthony, you scared?" Ian teased, wiggling his finger and cooing at Anthony like he was a child.  
  
"You're sick," Anthony pulled a face, and tugged hard at Ian's hood, momentarily gagging the lighter haired boy and with his other hand, squeezing Ian's wrist too tight. "Grr! Where's the fucking nurse?"  
  
"Right here, boys."  
  
The two turned to see a man, in his early thirties most likely, in dark purple scrubs with his hands folded and leaning nonchalantly against the frame of the door, like he had been comfortable there for the last ten minutes. Ian's face warmed, shaking off Anthony's hand too quickly and standing up. He saw Anthony jolt too in small surprise.  
  
Ian laughed nervously and made way for the blonde nurse. "Didn't see you there," Ian remarked, only a little embarrassed. It wasn't everyday that Ian and Anthony acted like jackasses without a camera. Usually, the camera let them boldly do silly things, hiding behind lenses that amplified their stupidity.  
  
"It's alright," the nurse said as he walked over between Ian and Anthony. "I'm Jimmy, your nurse for the pre-op. How are you feeling, Mister Padilla?"  
  
Anthony answered meekly, "Fine."  
  
Ian rolled his eyes and shook his head, catching Anthony's gaze from over the third man's shoulder. He mouthed the word 'pussy' which earned him a soft growl from his friend.  
  
"Everything alright between you two?" Jimmy asked, grinning and looking over at Ian. His gray eyes glinted in the florescent light, a sort of tease that shone in those depths. Ian mumbled that it was nothing and sat himself down at Anthony's feet.  
  
"So," Jimmy began, clapping his hands together. He gave Ian a big smile, all white teeth and gums. "Dr. Davenia has walked you through the procedure, right?" Anthony nodded. "It's just a simple appendectomy. I'll be checking your vitals and then administering anaesthesia. Do you have any questions?"  
  
Anthony shook his head, his complaints and cries suddenly silent and Ian frowned. He placed his hand round Anthony's foot as reassurance, using their 'best-friend-telepathy' to ask if Anthony was really all right, if he was scared and if he needed Ian for anything. Anthony looked down at Ian, his caramel eyes telling all Ian needed to know in one second.  
  
The nurse turned his head to Ian in question after the odd moment of quiet.  
  
Ian nodded. "No one... uh... no one..." he whispered, afraid to say the word but he couldn't think of another one. Ian was never good with euphemisms. "No one _dies_ , right?"  
  
Jimmy gave them another one of his smiles. "With every surgery, there are risks and possible complications," he started and Ian felt Anthony's toes tense and his own breath being held back, "But for simple surgeries like Anthony's, doctors can do them with their eyes closed and come out with perfect results."  
  
Ian gulped and shared a somewhat relieved look with Anthony. His hunger feeling less jarring and overlapped with the wallowing feeling of anxious worries. Jimmy's too wide, all lip smile only smothered a little of Ian's concern for his best friend.  
  
"There's nothing to worry about," Jimmy reassured and placed a firm hand on Anthony's shoulder.  
  
Ian smiled uneasily and watched as the nurse fiddled with Anthony's IV, pressing buttons and shifting through drawers. He looked over at Anthony, whose eyes were cast downward and his head hanging low.  
  
Ian guessed Anthony really _was_ scared.  
  
"Hey, Anthony," Ian called again, thinking up of a way to take Anthony’s mind off the matter at hand. "Anthony."  
  
He looked up, his voice small, asking, "What?"  
  
"Let's take a picture!" Ian grinned and took out his Android. Anthony instantly grimaced, shaking his head. "C'mon, please?"  
  
Anthony rolled his eyes. "Why?"  
  
"Because," Ian started, “To remember. And it’ll make a funny picture.”  
  
“So I can remember how shitty I feel right now?” Anthony whispered furiously, turning his head away when Ian pointed his phone in his direction. “No way.”  
  
Ian thought he heard Jimmy suppress a laugh. “Aw, c’mon, Ant!”  
  
“I’ll take the picture for you if you’d like,” Jimmy added, finishing hanging a clear bag on the IV rack.  
  
“Yeah!” Ian handed his phone to the nurse and plopped himself onto Anthony’s bed. Anthony cried out in pain but Ian told him to suck it up and just smile. Jimmy shook his head and snapped a few pictures despite Anthony’s constant complaints and cries.  
  
“These are great,” the nurse commented, handing the phone back to Ian.  
  
“Don’t encourage him,” Anthony said to Jimmy and scowled at Ian, “And someone should kick your ass ‘cause it keeps sitting on me.”  
  
“You can do that later,” Ian dismissed Anthony as he flipped through the pictures, laughing to himself at how stupid Anthony looked. This time, Jimmy ‘s chuckles escaped and Ian turned to Anthony, teasing him that even the nurse thought he was ugly.  
  
“Okay, okay, settle down,” Jimmy laughed, “All right, Mister Padilla, it’s almost time. I’m going to administer the anaesthesia soon after. Again, any questions?”  
  
“No, please,” Anthony leered at Ian who was still laughing, “If it means the pain goes away and I don’t have to look at this idiot anymore, _please_.”  
  
“Oh, shut up, Ant,” Ian said, snaking an arm around Anthony’s head in an attempt to hug and jostle his hurting friend. “I’m starving for you, so appreciate it.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”  
  
Jimmy smiled warmly and excused himself briefly as he left the room, coming back in with a team of nurses and Anthony’s surgeon. There was another brief run over of what was going to happen. Ian’s stomach grumbled several times above Anthony’s head and he had to pull at Anthony’s hair to wipe off that proud smirk on his face. Ian knew he should probably be nicer since Anthony was going under the knife and all.  
  
Jimmy had a needle in his hand when the talk was over, poised over the tube that lead to the IV in Anthony’s arm. Another nurse gestured for Ian to get off the bed but Anthony’s hand set him back in place.  
  
“No, don’t…” Anthony started shyly, staring up at Ian with wide eyes, a little fearful. Ian’s own eyes softened, learning something new about Anthony today. It was bad, how tempting it was to embarrass the hell out of Anthony’s fear of going into surgery.  
  
“Is it okay if I stay here until he goes to sleep?” Ian asked Jimmy, linking his palm to Anthony’s. He was shaking, the pulse on the monitor high and beeping quick. Ian found it a little endearing that Anthony _needed_ him. He might not make fun of Anthony now, but he would definitely do that once this was all over.  
  
“Of course, if it helps,” Jimmy said and nodded to the other nurse. “Okay, Mister Padilla, can you count down from ten for me?”  
  
“I’ll see you later, bro,” Ian said as Anthony counted, his eyes drooping closed as they locked gazes and his words slurring away.  
  
Once Anthony went limp and the erratic beeps slowed to a levelled pace, Ian let go reluctantly, hopping off the bed and following the group as they wheeled Anthony out into the hallway. The squeak and roll of the stretcher loud in the quiet but bustling hospital. He went all the way to the double doors until a hand held him back on his shoulder.  
  
“That’s as far as we can go,” Jimmy said.  
  
“Ah… okay.” Ian fidgeted, not knowing where to go anymore. He should probably take care of his hungry stomach, but now it was twisting and tumbling inside of him with worry. The last thing he wanted to do was feed it. He chuckled a little inside, learning again, something new: Ian was afraid of Anthony going into surgery.  
  
He wondered if Anthony was dreaming, or just completely gone. Ian had read somewhere that patients often hear voices, or hear the whole thing but feel nothing. And then he had watched movies where the patient felt _everything_. Ian prayed nothing like that would happen to Anthony.  
  
And what about all those stories about people getting their tonsils taken out and dying on the table? God, Ian hoped, hoped so bad, that _nothing_ except the damned appendix was going to drift out of life in that operating room.  
  
“It’s nice, you two,” a deep voice beside him shook Ian back to the other side of the double doors. Ian had forgotten he was standing in the middle of the hallway with Jimmy. He looked up at Anthony’s nurse, his grey eyes staring in the direction of where Anthony disappeared. He smiled. “I can see you care for him a lot.”  
  
Ian nodded, wiping his sweaty hands down his jeans in worry. “They’re not _really_ gonna do this thing with their eyes closed, right?”  
  
The nurse laughed, looking down at Ian. “Don’t worry,” he grinned, “We’ve got the best here in this hospital. I didn’t catch your name, sorry...?”  
  
“Ian,” he answered, taking Jimmy’s warm hand in a shake. His hands were still pretty sweaty. “Thanks. I know it’s just a routine surgery, but y’know…”  
  
Jimmy nodded in understanding, adjusting the stethoscope round his neck. “I would guarantee you that he’ll be fine, but then all that legal shit will be biting my ass.”  
  
Ian laughed a little, liking the easy conversation with Jimmy. It did good, lightening his sudden dampening mood.  
  
“I’m ninety-nine percent positive that everything will be fine.”  
  
“Hope so,” Ian said, running a hand through his hair. They were still facing the door and Ian was staring at it, as if waiting for it to open and have Anthony walk out, healthy and not in pain anymore.  
  
Anthony better not die, or Ian was going to kill him.  
  
Jimmy cleared his throat. “So, Ian… how long have you been together?”  
  
“Huh?” Ian questioned, again being taken out of his thoughts. “Oh… uh, we’ve known each other since sixth grade.”  
  
“Wow.” Jimmy seemed impressed. “That’s a long time.”  
  
“Yeah,” Ian agreed absently. “How long is the recovery period again?”  
  
The nurse told him that the normal recovery period would be four to six weeks as he started to lead Ian to the waiting room down the other end of the hall.  
  
“He should be up and running in no time,” Jimmy said.  
  
“He better,” Ian scratched his neck out of anxiety, thinking of the coming weeks and how much work Ian would have to do to handle Smosh while Anthony was bed-ridden. They were not prepared for this kind of emergency.  
  
“Do you need anything? Coffee? A magazine to read?” Jimmy offered as they stopped in front of the entrance of the room. Almost everyone in the room had their heads down, or hands clasped tight. Ian was a little hesitant to enter, feeling the atmosphere fill his despairing emotions even more.  
  
“Uh… it’s alright. I’m good, thanks.” Ian eyed the mother in the corner, crying silently and doing a poor job of it. Every little while, a sob would burst from between her tear-soaked hands.  
  
Jimmy gave Ian an apologetic look. “Maybe you want to head to the cafeteria?”  
  
“Yeah, maybe,” Ian said relieved. He followed the man down the hall again.  
  
“To be honest,” Jimmy started, waving to a few nurses and making way for a running doctor. “Seeing you two, so young.” he continued slowly, quietly, “It gives me hope, y’know?”  
  
Ian cocked his head in question, not really understanding, taking in the nurse’s sudden nervousness.  
  
“It’s nice to see two people so happy and comfortable with each other,” he went on as they neared the elevators, “And I was beginning to think it would be impossible to find someone, _anyone_ , as loving as the two of you.”  
  
_What?_ Ian came to a halt; hand in midair and mouth open to speak. But he was trying to decipher exactly what the man in front of him was trying to imply. His brows knit together then rose up into his hair.  
  
“U-Uh... W-What—“  
  
“It’s hard,” Jimmy interrupted, letting out a sigh as he pressed the button of the elevator. He turned around, hands in his pocket to look at Ian who was still trying to form words, tiny bouts of embarrassment creeping up his neck. “Being single. And not to mention old… and also being…” he whispered the next word, “ _…gay._ ”  
  
_Oh…_  
  
_Oh!_  
  
_Er…_  
  
Ian shut his open mouth, feeling incredibly at loss and guilty; guilty if he dared to make such an awkward personal moment between Jimmy and him even _more_ awkward.  
  
Ian could not _believe_ what was happening.  
  
He also couldn’t wait to tell Anthony for some weird reason.  
  
“But when I saw you two,” Jimmy chuckled, warm and so hopeful and truthful, “I’m sorry. I saw that whole name-calling argument. But, yeah…” He smiled, shrugging. “It’s not so bad. I feel it’s okay. I don’t have to hate myself.”  
  
Ian gulped, a sympathetic frown on his lips. “Hate yourself?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m sorry again,” Jimmy apologized, looking sheepish now. “I don’t mean to throw this out at you. I’m sure you know all about it. It’s hard being what we are, especially if it’s being it alone.”  
  
Ian didn’t respond. He was still debating how he should proceed. How can he escape from his weird situation without hurting Jimmy?  
  
“Do you love him?”  
  
_What the hell? Who asks that?_ How was Ian supposed to answer _that_?  
  
Ian hesitated, flabbergasted to be exact. Here was a stranger, spilling out a heartfelt confession and asking him really _odd_ questions. Ian felt he owed Jimmy one, especially since he had been so accommodating. He didn’t want Jimmy to get the wrong idea about Anthony and him. He definitely didn’t want _anyone_ to think _... that_ and Ian was seriously questioning how he should act around his best friend now.  
  
Gah, Ian shouldn’t be too surprised himself, thinking back now. He and Anthony… sometimes they could blur the lines. Too much, apparently.  
  
Ian sighed, seeing the expression on the nurse’s face melted Ian’s pride. He owed Jimmy something. Even if it wasn’t exactly the whole truthful picture.  
  
So Ian nodded, deciding a little warily that he would go along. Save Jimmy some face. Suck it up and smile.  
  
“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, a blush blossoming but his voice sturdier when the next few words formed in his head, “I love him.”  
  
And... That was the truth, Ian realized, smiling now. “I love him a lot. Even when he’s being a bitch.”  
  
Jimmy’s gray eyes lit up with a sparkle, looking lighter and laughed. And a sense of happiness and accomplishment washed away Ian’s worry.  
  
“He loves you, too,” Jimmy said confidently, “I can tell.”  
  
And Ian laughed too, heart swelling and quickening, and nervousness leaving slowly. Ian was finally hungry again, eager to go to the cafeteria with Jimmy. He looked back to the doors down the hall, where Anthony was probably dreaming.  
  
“I know.”


End file.
